Right
by nightlight's fire
Summary: SPOILERS for 47 Seconds and The Limey. Post-ep. Being apart causes pain, and this kind of pain can't be right. One-shot, with possibility of sequel.


**Right**

Linebreak

"So you and Castle… is there something there?" Colin asks. She looks away. Into the non-existent distance.

"I don't know anymore," she replies. They're at the Old Haunt, a familiar place. She feels strange, being here without Rick.

"He loves you," Colin says. Such a simple statement. Everybody around her sees what she's been trying to ignore, trying to run away from for so long.

"I know," she replies. "I love him too. But with us… time's never right."

Scotland Yard sighs. Sets his drink down.

"I had something like that, you know. Years ago. I worked with a CI, Sarah," he says. She looks up at him. "We were close. I got hit by a car. In the bloody hospital for two weeks. One day, Sarah comes and sits by my bed. I'm almost dead tired, but still awake. She thinks I'm out. And she tells me…"

"That she loves you," Kate supplies when he chokes. "Yeah, I know that feeling."

That damn gun shot. The funeral, Rick, what he said, then that stupid decision. Some space. She said she'd call him. What if Lanie was right? What if he really was tired of waiting?

"I pretend like I didn't hear her, and six months later her sentence is commuted and I never see her again," he finishes. Gulps down something to burn his throat.

"Sorry," she says. She feels like she has to.

"It was my fault. Sometimes life gives you chances, Kate… I was just too stupid to see that one," he says.

"I _do_ love him," she repeats blankly. There seems to be no strength behind her words. Futileness, maybe. Desperation.

"Have you told him?" Colin asks.

She hadn't. Nothing. Some words might have come close. But nothing, in the end. Words are meaningless unless they're the right words. He'd taught her that. And she hadn't ever said the right words.

"Seize the chance, Kate. Don't let something this precious run away from you like I did," he says. She nods, takes another gulp of courage, and disappears out the door.

It's cold out. Raining. His loft isn't too far. Thank God.

_You better be home_, she texts.

Linebreak

Knocking. Frantic, rapid. He opens the door. There she is, standing over a puddle of her own making.

"I need to tell you something," she says. Straight away, fast. "Before I can't anymore."

He blinks. What?

"At the funeral. I heard you," she says.

He stares at her for a moment, looks at her, looks through her. Looking for a point of origin, for where this came from.

"I know. The glass in the interrogation room isn't that thick," he replies.

Ah. That explains his distance, the stewardess. She understands now. He caught the lie.

"I'm sorry," she says. Immediate. He nods shortly.

"I'm sure you are," he replies. Disbelief, doubt, ignorance. "You lied to me, Kate. To _me_. Sorry isn't enough."

She reaches for him, for his hand, but he steps back, falling out of her reach.

"What is enough?" she asks.

He stops. His eyes seem to soften. He looks at her and remembers that the switch he tried to mount of the door named Love, wasn't actually there. He couldn't look at her face, broken so, and not love her.

"I love you," she says.

Wait, what?

"I've been trying to tell you for ages, but the time was never right, and then all these damn cases and the time was just never right. You started becoming distant and that stewardess you brought…"

"You don't ever need to be jealous, Kate. I love _you_. She was just a distraction to try and get away from you," he says.

And then she kisses him, fast, passionate. His arms tangle in her hair, and she pushes them further into his loft. He thanks God that his daughter, and even better, his mother are gone.

Linebreak

They are sated, and negativity is driven from them. The earlier doubt and pain and anger had been driven away by love and passion.

She is sprawled on his bed, facing away from him, face down. He is drawing soft circles on her lower back. They both feel the electric tingle of his touch, and they both revel in it.

"Where are we, Rick?"

His circles get bigger, wider, larger, his fingers tiptoe walk up her back, brushing the back of her neck lightly.

"Together," he replies. She moans lightly at his touch.

"Does this feel right to you, Kate?" he asks, pre-empting her next question. She props herself up on her elbow and looks at him.

"Yes, but -"

He cuts her off by putting a finger to her lips.

"It feels right. That's enough," he says.


End file.
